Reckless Reunion (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “At the after party,” Garrett says.

  My eyebrows draw together. “There was still an after party?”

  He laughs. “There’s always an after party.”

  “The fans must be disappointed.”

  “They’ll get over it. We can drop by if you want.”

  “No, I’m kind of tired after all the excitement. But you go ahead if you want.”

  “Nah. I think I’ll return to the hotel. What about you?” he asks Crew and Bria.

  Bria says, “Don’t tell Ella, but I’m happy to have an excuse to bail out on the party. It gets old after so many times.”

  We climb into the limo, and I relax for the first time in what feels like hours. Garrett turns to me, looking surprised. “You fly now?”

  “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other anymore.”

  He studies me. “I guess so.”

  We stare at each other on the ride back, both wanting to ask questions I’m not sure we want answers to.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Garrett

  The bus seems empty without Ella and Reece. I stare out the window.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Bria says.

  “Just tired.”

  She shoots me an impish grin. “Up late, were you?”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “What I’m thinking is you couldn’t sleep because you knew Reece was going to stay behind with Ella. And thinking about going on stage without her, even though it’s only for one song, is going to feel strange in a way you never imagined, because she’s worked herself back into your life when you least expected it.”

  Crew snickers, his eyes on his notebook.

  I snort and go to the bathroom. I splash water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror, knowing every word Bria said is true. It’s been three hours since we left. Three hours. And I can’t stop thinking about her.

  I figure I’ll get some shuteye to pass the time, but when I open the door to the bedroom, Iggy is passed out on the bed. By passed out, I mean literally dead to the world. I kick the bed. “Other people need to sleep once in a while, douchebag.”

  He doesn’t even flinch.

  I rejoin the others. “Captain Meth Head has commandeered the bed again.”

  “He’s not high on meth,” Liam says. “He’d be buzzing if he were. Must have taken something else.”

  Crew picks up the duffle bag Iggy is always carrying around. “Want to rummage through it? See what he’s really up to?”

  Bria takes the bag and puts it down. “We can’t violate his privacy.”

  “Even if it means he fucks us over?” Liam says. “What if one day he screws up onstage, or worse, is too drugged out to perform?”

  “He’s right,” I say. “He’s not one of us yet. He works for us, and as his employers, we have a right to know what he’s taking.” I hold out my hand. “Give it here. I’ll do it.”

  Bria’s deep sigh lets me know she’s onboard. I search the duffle, finding mostly T-shirts and condoms. Lots and lots of condoms. And a Dopp kit. “There’s nothing here.”

  Liam grabs the Dopp kit from me, unzips it, and dumps out at least a dozen baggies of pot and various pills.

  “Holy shit,” Crew says, staring at the stash.

  I open a bag, take out a pill, and look at it, then google the markings. “Benzos.” I do the same for some of the others. “Barbiturates. And these are Adderall.”

  “What’s Adderall?” Bria asks.

  “People with ADHD take it,” Jeremy says. “My sister was on it as a kid. It’s an amphetamine. An upper.”

  “What about the others?” Bria asks.

  Liam points “This looks like crank.”

  I gape at him. “How the hell do you know what crystal meth looks like?”

  “I watch a lot of CSI.”

  Bria gasps when I pull out a baggie of white powder. “Is that cocaine?”

  “Jesus.” I riffle through everything. “Is there anything he doesn’t have?”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Iggy storms over and shoves everything back into his bag. “I don’t go through your shit.”

  “Because we’re not acting erratic,” Crew says.

  “We’re rock stars,” Iggy says, pulling out a smoke and lighting up. “It’s what we do. No big deal.”

  Liam hops off the couch, swipes the cigarette from Iggy’s mouth, and douses it in the sink.

  “We don’t,” Bria says.

  “Bullshit.” He looks specifically at me. “He’s lying if he says he’s never used.”

  “Smoking the occasional joint does not make me a user, man,” I say.

  “What the hell do you care what I do in my private time if I’m able to do my job onstage?”

  “That’s what we’re worried about,” Crew says. “What if one day you can’t? We’ve been with you night and day for the past month, Iggy. We see what’s happening to you.”

  “What’s happening is I’m a fucking rock star. The question is, what the hell is wrong with all of you?” He points at me. “I thought you’d have my back. You’re the only one who acts even remotely like a rock star, sleeping with groupies and shit.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Liam and Crew look amused. Bria smiles.

  “Maybe you should have warned me I was joining the goddamn Brady Bunch band.”

  “Hold on,” Jeremy says. “Not everyone here is squeaky clean. We all have our issues. But we can’t have those issues affecting our performances.”

  “You’re just the manager,” Iggy spits out angrily. “You aren’t one of us. Why are you even here?”

  “Jeremy’s been with Reckless Alibi since the beginning,” Crew says. “He’s more one of us than you are.”

  Iggy picks up his duffle and marches to the back of the bus. “Fuck all of you,” he says and slams the bedroom door.

  After a moment of astonishment, Bria says, “We’re in agreement we can’t keep him on after the tour, right?”

  Liam gets a six-pack from the fridge and hands beers around. “I’d vote to get rid of him right now if it were possible.”

  “We have seventeen more shows,” Jeremy says. “You’re more than halfway through the tour. We’ll keep him on a short leash.”

  “We should have flushed the drugs,” Bria says.

  “He’d only get more.”

  “From whom?”

  “Roadies, babe,” Crew says. “They always have connections. Didn’t you learn that when you toured with White Poison?”

  “I suppose I was blissfully ignorant.” She turns to me. “I’m watching you, Garrett.”

  “I said I occasionally toke up, Bria. Jeez.”

  “It’s just—I love you guys. I can’t imagine what would happen if one of you started doing that stuff.”

  Crew takes her hand. “We all have more important things in our lives.”

  “Do we?” she says, challenging me.

  The bus slows, and Tom addresses us. “We’re going straight to the arena. I called ahead to make sure we had extra security, due to the conspicuous nature of the bus. You should be fine, but I wanted to warn you.”

  We stop. Tom is the first one off the bus. He motions to us, and we step down into a screaming crowd. Iggy holds his duffle tightly as he descends the steps.

  I shake my head at him when I see traces of white powder on his face. “Wipe your fucking nose, man.”

  He flips me the bird, wipes his face, and then does a stupid dance for the fans, obviously high out of his mind.

  After we go inside, we’re escorted to an area set up with a bar and buffet. I load my plate and find a quiet room to decompress before the show. I hear a noise. A stifled cry. I thought I was alone in here, so I look around. There’s a kid behind the table in the corner.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  The boy sinks to the floor, crying.

  Setting my plate on the table, I go over and crouch down. The boy peers up at me. “Hey,
buddy. Where’s your mom?”

  More crying.

  Liam enters the room. “Sorry, I was trying to find a quiet place to make a call.”

  “Hey, can you find Bria?”

  “She’s getting her hair done. Why?”

  “This little boy seems to be lost.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. Find his mom?”

  “You find his mom. I have to call Ella before the show. She’s having surgery tonight.”

  “Okay. Tell her good luck for me.”

  He leaves. I sit on the floor a few feet from the boy. “What’s your name?”

  He sniffs. “Gabe.”

  “Cool name. Mine starts with a G too. I’m Garrett.” I hold out my hand thinking that’s what you do when you meet kids, but I don’t know. I’ve never really met one. He looks at my hand like it’s going to bite him. “Where’s your mom?”

  He shakes his head.

  “This is a big place. It’s probably scary for a little dude like you.” My drumsticks are digging into my butt. I pull them out of a back pocket and put them on the floor. He regards them. “You want to touch them? It’s okay.” I pick them up and play a little tune on the floor, the table leg, the concrete wall, and my thigh. “Cool, huh?” I hold them out. “Now you try.”

  He takes them and taps one on the floor, then glances at me with a hint of a smile.

  “How old are you?”

  He puts down a stick and holds up three fingers.

  “I’d say that’s old enough to start being a real drummer. After we find your mom, you tell her you want a drum set. But don’t tell her it was my idea; she’d probably kill me. What do you say, should we go find her? I’ll even let you keep the drumsticks.”

  His eyes go wide. Then he climbs into my lap.

  “Oh, uh, okay.” I try to stand, but he doesn’t get off me. He wraps his arms around my neck.

  I get up and walk with him in my arms until we reach the room with the food. “Can anyone claim this kid?”

  Several roadies look my way. One says, “That’s John’s sister’s kid.”

  “Well how about you find John or his sister. Gabe here was lost.” I try to pass Gabe to the guy, but he won’t let go. “Fine. Can you at least tell me where to find one of them?”

  Jeremy appears. “Fifteen minutes!” he shouts. He looks amused when he sees me and Gabe. “Who do we have here?”

  “This is Gabe,” I say. “He’s three. Future drummer. Isn’t that right, Gabe?”

  Gabe nods emphatically.

  Jeremy laughs. “Well, Gabe, I need to borrow Garrett so he can go play his drums. Okay, little man?”

  Gabe shakes his head and holds me tighter.

  “Find John or his sister,” I say.

  “I’m on it.”

  Bria and Crew come in. Crew snaps a picture of me on his phone. “Here’s something I thought I’d never see.”

  I try to loosen the kid’s death grip around my neck. “I think someone might have to surgically remove him.”

  A lady runs over. “Gabe!”

  “Mommy!”

  He finally lets go, and I hand him over.

  “I’m so sorry,” the woman says. “I took my eyes off him for a minute, and he was gone. I apologize if he bothered you. Give the nice man back his drumsticks, sweetie.”

  “They’re his now. I gave them to him. He’s going to be a drummer. Isn’t that right, Gabe?” I tousle his hair.

  “A dwummer like Gawett.”

  I laugh. “That’s right.” I mouth sorry to his mom.

  Jeremy says, “I’ve got you set up in the next room.”

  We follow him out the door, but I can’t help looking back at the brown-haired boy who held onto me like his life depended on it. He waves a drumstick at me as I round the corner.

  ~ ~ ~

  Bria sings Reece’s song. Four weeks ago, it made me mad to see Reece onstage singing. But now Bria is the imposter and even she knows it. She glances back at me almost apologetically as she sings. Reece signed over the rights, and after this tour she will most likely never sing it again. But I’m certain it’ll never truly feel like our song.

  My stomach twists thinking about Reece going on tour. I’ve just recently been able to wrap my mind around her signing with IRL. Her being around the studio, entwined in my life in a way I never imagined. And now I have to think about her going on tour.

  My mind tells me I’m a hypocrite for not wanting her to go. She’s nothing to me. A friend at best. I have no claim on her. I glance at the tattoo I got in Australia. She doesn’t know I got it. With my full sleeve of tattoos, you’d have to look hard to see the musical scale with the notes A and F on it. Always and forever.

  Damn it. I think I might really be into her.

  It’s been less than a day and I miss her. I miss her low, sultry voice that gives me chills every time she sings. I miss the way she stares at me from across the room when she doesn’t think I can see her. I miss the way I wonder if she’s thinking of me from her seat on the other side of the bus. And tonight, I’ll miss wondering when I’m going to cave and knock on her hotel room door.

  I’ll miss her when she’s gone, and that makes me realize what an ass I was in Australia. I was so busy, I never took the time to think about what it might be like for her. But if today is any indication—I think I’m going to find out.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Reece

  Six years ago …

  “Order up!” Frank shouts from the kitchen for the second time.

  “Sorry, thanks.”

  “Not on your game today?”

  I shrug and put the order on my tray.

  “Missing the boyfriend?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How much longer?”

  “He’s only been gone for two weeks, Frank. He won’t be back until November.”

  “Old Frankie here will keep you warm.”

  I laugh. “Thanks for the offer. I’d better get this out there.”

  I do a double take on my way to table twelve. “Rob?”

  “Hey, Mancini.”

  My stomach twists when he says that. He sounds so much like Garrett. “Uh, hi. Let me drop this off and I’ll be right back.” I walk to the booth in the back. “Here you go, Mr. Peterson. Sorry about the wait.”

  “You okay, honey?” he says. “You’re looking a little peaked today.”

  I paste on a smile. “Just wishing this rain would go away.”

  “The weatherman on channel three said the sun will come out tomorrow.”

  “That’s good to hear, Mr. Peterson. Enjoy your meatloaf.”

  I walk by Rob, who’s getting waited on by the new girl. He looks at me to rescue him.

  “Elaine, I’ll take this one. You can take the couple at table two.”

  “Thanks,” he says. “I thought I might have to figure out which one was your table.”

  “You came to talk to me? Is Garrett okay?”

  “He’s good. He wanted me to check on you. Make sure you’re doing all right.” He eyes me up and down. “And with good reason. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look so hot. You feeling okay?”

  “My boyfriend is ten thousand miles away and won’t be back for five and a half months. Oh, and news flash, he can’t even come home for a few long weekends, like he promised. So, no, I’m not feeling okay.”

  “So he told you.”

  “Last night on the phone. Can you believe he waited two whole weeks to tell me he wouldn’t be able to come for a visit? The coward.”

  “Maybe he thought you wouldn’t take it well.”

  “You think?”

  “Reece! Order up.”

  I hold up a finger to let Frank know I’ll be right there. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

  “Coffee would be great.”

  I pick up and deliver my order, and a minute later, I’m pouring Rob his coffee.

  “What time do you get
off work?” he asks, adding sugar.

  “Seven. Why?”

  “How about you come to the house for dinner? Zola is making your favorite.”

  “I don’t think I should.”

  “Mom’s been asking about you. She wants to see you. And don’t worry about my dad, he’s working late tonight.”

  “It would remind me of him. I’m sad enough as it is without going to his house, Rob.”

  “Fair enough, but at least let me take you out for a nice meal. You look like you haven’t been eating much. Garrett would kick my ass if anything happened to you while he was away.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I know it’s not. But as your potential future brother-in-law, I’m offering you a meal and some good company, and I could use a break from studying.”

  Future brother-in-law? Has Garrett talked to him about such things?

  “Miss!” someone calls from two tables over.

  I close my eyes. Man, I’m sick of waiting on people. When do I get my big break? “Dinner would be nice. Thanks.”

  “I’ll pick you up here at seven?”

  “I’d like to go home and change first.”

  “Eight o’clock then, at your place.”

  “See you then.”

  After I take care of the lady at table four, I see Rob walk out, his coffee practically untouched. He left a twenty on the table. I pick up the money. Like everyone else, he feels sorry for me.

  ~ ~ ~

  I haven’t done laundry in a while. I sift through a pile, sniffing my tops to find one that’s not smelly and wrinkled. I put on a skirt, not sure what kind of restaurant we’re going to.

  When he knocks on the door, I paste on a smile, vowing not to wallow in self-pity all night.

  “You look nice,” he says.

  His button-down and khakis are pretty much the opposite of what Garrett would wear. “You too.”

  “Italian okay?”

  “Anything but diner food.”

  We make small talk on the way to the restaurant. It’s awkward. Kind of like talking to my customers when I’m waiting for them to order.

  After we’re seated and order drinks, he asks, “This is really taking a toll on you, isn’t it?”